


Pieces of Me

by DelilahMcMuffin



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Boys In Love, David is feeling anxious, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Patrick is so so loving, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Season 6 Spoilers, They are going to be husbands soon, men in panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin
Summary: Before the wedding, David finds something from his old life that he wants Patrick to have. They both have feelings about it.Set sometime between The Presidential Suite and Start Spreading the News (waves hand at the timey-wimey nature of the show).Chapter 2 earns the ‘E’ rating.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 73
Kudos: 364





	1. The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> “It’s a present. For you,” David said, his voice barely above a whisper.
> 
> “I can see that,” Patrick said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting down next to David. “You mind telling me why you’re looking at it like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off?”
> 
> “Um… it’s just… I wanted to give you something. A real present this time. But I’m… I’m not sure. I think I might have inherited my dad’s knack for terrible gifts.” He bit his lip. “Do you think that bad gift-giving could be hereditary?”
> 
> Huge thanks to double27 for taking a look at this and assuring me that I was not insane. Much appreciated, friend!

David’s hands trembled slightly as he carefully folded the thick brown butcher paper, securing it with strategically placed pieces of tape, then wrapping a rattan ribbon around it all, tying it into a neat bow.

 _You don’t have to do this,_ he told himself. _This isn’t a part of yourself that you need to give him._

David shook his head, sitting back and looking at the parcel now laying innocuously on Patrick’s kitchen table. He drummed his fingers on the table nervously. His legs bounced, the sound of his sneakers tapping gently against the hardwood floors and his fingers on the table the only sounds in the room. 

David closed his eyes, picturing his fiancé’s face. Patrick’s kind eyes, his funny frown that was actually a smile. The way he had of seeing through every layer of bullshit that David had built up over years and years, tearing them all down, patiently, brick by brick. Always reassuring. Always loving. 

_He’ll judge you._

No he won’t. Shut up.

_He’ll think it’s weird. Strange. It’s too much._

David scrunched up his face, tipping his head back. He knew he was a lot of things. Or maybe he was just a lot. But Patrick... Patrick had been the only one that had never treated David like he was too much, had never made him feel like a burden or a chore. He’d made David feel loved, seen and understood. He’d made David feel beautiful - like a rare flower, or a mythical creature - something to be treasured, nurtured, appreciated.

_Then why are you so nervous?_

David had no time to answer that question, the sound of the apartment door opening behind him drawing his attention. He quickly got to his feet, putting himself between Patrick and the table. The longer David could keep Patrick from seeing the gift, the longer he had to talk himself out of going through with this.

“Hey,” Patrick said, smiling as he closed the door behind himself, dropping his keys and phone into the little dish on the table beside the door. He bent to untie his shoes, quickly toeing them off and standing to look at David, the smile slipping from his face, his brows furrowed with concern and his lips turned down into a frown. “David? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Why would you... It’s nothing.”

_Oh yeah. Smooth. Great job. Way to play it cool. You’re pathetic._

Patrick took a tentative step forward. “Judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t look like nothing.” 

David drew his lips into his mouth, his stomach curling into knots. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and willing away the apprehension that had been building inside of him all day, ever since he’d found that box in the second floor storage room at the motel. 

“Um… it’s not… it’s not bad,” David managed to get out, hating how small and uncertain his voice sounded. “It’s just… I’m just… I’m feeling a little anxious.”

Patrick was standing in front of him in an instant, warm hands framing his face, whiskey brown eyes searching David’s, offering comfort, support. Offering whatever David needed.

“Is it the wedding? Is… is it your family? Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, David. You know that.”

David nodded his head, hands reaching up to grasp at Patrick’s wrists as he tenderly held David’s face in his palms. “I know. I know.”

Patrick gently tipped David’s head forward so he could reach his forehead, brushing his lips against the furrowed skin above David’s eyebrows, to the tip of his nose, to his chin. “God, you’re shaking,” Patrick said, worry evident in his voice. “Here, sit down and let me get you some water.” He carefully extricated his wrists from David’s vice-like grip, placing his hands on David’s shoulders and easing him back down into the chair he’d been sitting in before Patrick had come home.

David sat, listening as Patrick opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting off the top and handing it to David. 

David gratefully accepted it, taking a long sip.

“Huh,” Patrick said softly, and alarm bells started going off in David’s head. _Fuuuuuuuuck._ “Um, David, what is this?”

Eyes glued to the bottle of water in his hands, David shrugged his shoulders. _Shit_. His hands were trembling again. 

“David? Honey, can you look at me please?”

Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, David looked at the neatly wrapped bundle on the table, then finally up at Patrick. 

“It’s a present. For you,” David said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can see that,” Patrick said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting down next to David. “You mind telling me why you’re looking at it like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off?”

“Um… it’s just… I wanted to give you something. A real present this time. But I’m… I’m not sure. I think I might have inherited my dad’s knack for terrible gifts.” He bit his lip. “Do you think that bad gift-giving could be hereditary?”

Patrick’s lips quirked down into that funny upside down smile that David loved so, so much. “Well, the spray tan notwithstanding, you’ve always been pretty good with gifts before,” he said, leaning forward and giving David’s knee a gentle squeeze. “I don’t think you actually have anything to worry about, David. And I… I know that you didn’t _mean_ for the spray tan… I mean, maybe I took it a little too personally.”

David knew Patrick was being overly generous, probably because he sensed that David was perched on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Patrick was giving him an out that David didn’t necessarily believe he deserved. The spray tan had been awful and insensitive and they both knew it.

David shook his head. “No, you were right. It was… not good. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Patrick’s fingers squeezed David’s knee again. “So why has this—“ he gestured to the present on the table, “—got you so worked up?”

David took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s… very personal. To me.” 

“Okay.”

“Stevie and I, we were going through some of the boxes in the storage area at the motel,” David began to explain, his eyes once again on the bottle of water in his hand. “I found a box of stuff that I thought I’d lost. I didn’t know it made it here when we were… when they took everything from us.”

He glanced up to find Patrick watching him, eyes filled with compassion. Patrick knew how hard it was for David to talk about that time in his life, and David loved him so damn much for just listening, never pushing. For just being there in those rare moments when David wanted to share.

“Most of it was junk. Nothing really, just stuff that had seemed important in the moment. But this—“ David reached out to tap a finger against the present on the table, “—I lost sleep, thinking that some stranger out there had found this.” Setting down his water bottle, David placed his hand over Patrick’s on his knee. “I knew when I saw it that if anyone was going to have it, that it had to be you. You’re the only person I trust not to… I trust you to keep it safe.”

“David…” Patrick breathed, his eyes brimming with a storm of emotions. He turned his hand over and linked his fingers with David’s, bringing them to his lips and kissing each on in turn. “God, of course I will. That’s… of course I’ll keep it safe. You know I will.”

David felt relief flood through his body, filling him up, drowning him in Patrick’s love. “You can open it. If you want.”

“I don’t have to,” Patrick said, David’s fingers still pressed, warm and safe against his lips. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

David let those words sink in. _Not if you don’t want me to._ Patrick would accept this gift without ever opening it, if that’s what David wanted. Taking a deep breath, David let it out slowly. “I want you to open it. I… want you to see.”

And as soon as he said it, David knew it was true. He did want Patrick to see. He wanted Patrick to see all of him. 

“Are you sure?”

David smiled and used his free hand to gently stroke Patrick’s cheek. “Easiest decision of my life, honey.”

Patrick beamed back at him. If it was physically possible for his eyes to turn into actual hearts, they would have done so in that moment. “God, I love you so much, David.”

Letting go of David’s hand, Patrick reached out to pick up the package from the table. David watched while Patrick’s calloused fingers made short work of the wrappings until he was holding a leather-bound portfolio in his hands. David held his breath and closed his eyes as Patrick opened the cover. He heard Patrick’s breathing hitch, heard the sound of the thick pages being turned. 

“Oh my God, David…” Patrick’s voice was so soft, almost reverent, and David felt the knot of anxiety in his stomach begin to unravel ever so slightly and he allowed himself to breathe again. Patrick continued to murmur under his breath as he turned the pages.

After what felt like hours, but in all likelihood had been mere moments, David heard Patrick gasp. “Holy fuck… Jesus. _David_.”

There was the sound of soft leather being set down on the table, the scraping of the chair against the hardwood floor, and then David felt hands on his shoulders, felt Patrick climbing onto his lap, straddling his legs with his thick, gorgeous thighs. He opened his eyes. Patrick was staring back at him with a look of pure, unbridled lust.

_Well… damn._


	2. Unwrapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick isn’t exactly sure what he expected when he unwrapped David’s gift, but it certainly isn't this. Inside the beautifully bound leather portfolio, printed on thick, high quality paper in breathtaking detail, are photographs. 
> 
> Of David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns it’s E rating. 
> 
> Again, thanks to double27 for encouraging me to keep going with this one.

Patrick isn’t exactly sure what he expected when he unwrapped David’s gift, but it certainly isn't this. Inside the beautifully bound leather portfolio, printed on thick, high quality paper in breathtaking detail, are photographs. 

_Of David._

Of a younger David. A painfully beautiful, delicate, ethereal David. In full colour. In tones of sepia. In black and white. Posed artfully, the David in these images touches Patrick in a place deep down inside, clenching around his heart, pulling the air from his lungs. The David in these images is provocative yet aloof, inviting Patrick to look, but not allowing him in. This David is meant to remain a mystery.

He turns, page after page. David in some blatantly sexual poses wearing next to no clothing. The chest hair that Patrick has come to love is missing, and this David is so, so thin, making him look so fragile, so breakable. Patrick turns the page again and gasps. In startling monochrome, David is posed kneeling on a bed, silky white sheets pooling around his legs, wearing a pair of lace… well, the only word Patrick can think to call them is panties, although he’s sure David would be quick to correct him should he put voice to that word. 

David’s dark hair and features stand out in such contrast to the white backdrop and Patrick feels something stir inside of him. The lace is wildly feminine and yet leaves no doubt that the person wearing them is all man. It’s a contradiction that makes Patrick’s brain short circuit and he can’t tear his eyes away. 

The dark, soulful eyes that Patrick knows so well stare back at him from the image, challenging him, daring him to look, to judge, to want. And Patrick does. He _wants_ . But he doesn’t want this. Not this version of David. He wants _his_ version of David. 

He gently closes the portfolio and sets it on the table. He stands, the legs of his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He puts his hands on David’s shoulders and settles himself, straddled across David’s lap. 

He watches as David’s eyes open and Patrick hates the traces of anxiety he can still see there. He hopes David can see how much Patrick loves him, wants him. How beautiful Patrick thinks he is, even now, so many years after those pictures were taken. The David in front of Patrick now - the David he gets to marry in just a few short weeks - is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. 

“Did you, um… what did you think?”

“You’re so beautiful, David,” Patrick breathes, taking David’s face in his hands and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

David’s smile is hesitant. “Yeah? Th-they were taken a long time ago… I was… I was thinner then.”

“You’re perfect now,” Patrick assures him. 

David’s face phases through a complicated series of emotions, finally settling on one that looks a lot like happiness. “Thank you, Patrick.”

“What were they for? Is that like, a modeling portfolio, or…”

“Oh, God no!” David replies with a kind of frenzied chuckle. “God, no. I never… I was never… I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Baby, you’re so gorgeous.”

David raises an elegant eyebrow, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “You’re biased.”

Patrick grins, leaning in for another kiss. “Doesn’t make me wrong.”

He feels David sigh into the kiss and Patrick breathes him in, loving the way David smells and tastes and feels. David’s hands are on his thighs now, slowly making their way up to Patrick’s hips, around to slip into the back pockets of his jeans. Patrick breathes David in again and opens his mouth, his tongue seeking David’s. He moans when David sucks him deeper, biting gently at Patricks tongue before he breaks free and they pant desperately into one another’s mouths as they try to remember how to breathe. 

“I, um, I did those pictures, just for… just for me.” David’s eyes drop to stare at Patrick’s collar bone, and Patrick can feel his fingers toying nervously with the belt loop on the back of his jeans. 

“Okay.”

“Um, I didn’t… have the best self-image. Back then. So, um… so I asked a friend who was a photographer—“

“Not—“

“ _God_ no!” David said with a firm shake of his head. “No, not Sebastien. Fuck, no.”

Patrick sighs out the breath he’d been holding and unclenches his fingers. He hadn’t realized he’d balled them into fists behind David’s neck at the mere thought of David letting _that man_ take such intimate pictures of him. 

“She was just a friend. And I could trust her not to… well, to keep these private.”

“So, you had these pictures done and… what? What were they for?”

David shrugs, still not meeting Patrick’s eyes. “It sounds stupid now,” he says. 

Patrick wraps his arms tighter around David’s shoulders, drawing him closer. He feels David’s face tucked into the safety of his shoulder. He rubs David’s back and rifles his fingers through his thick, gorgeous hair. 

“Baby, if this was something that you needed, just for you, then it’s not stupid,” Patrick says, turning his head so he can press his mouth to David’s temple. He hears David sigh, feels warm breath on his neck. Feels David’s arms tighten around his waist. 

“I… I didn’t have a lot of good things in my life.” David’s voice is muffled, but Patrick can hear how hard it is for him to say these words. “I mean, like, _I did_. I had money, and access to things people wanted. But… there was nobody to make me feel good, or… or valued. Or important. And I didn’t…” David pauses and swallows thickly, burrowing his face further into Patrick’s neck. “I didn’t see much value in myself then, either. So this was… I could look at these pictures if I needed to see something that other people liked. About me.”

There is a place inside Patrick where he has learned to lock away the anger he feels for all of the people in David’s old life. All the people who overlooked him, mistreated him, used him. Because the David that Patrick knows is a good person. A smart, witty, creative, loving person. The kind of person worth knowing.

“Oh, David,” Patrick murmurs against David's hairline, softly brushing his lips back and forth. “God, there is so much to love about you, baby. So, so much.”

David makes a sound, like he’s trying to swallow a sob. Patrick places his hands on David’s shoulders and gently pushes him back so he can see David’s face. He’s not crying, but the tears are there, ready to fall. And Patrick will catch them. 

“Thank you,” David says, his lip trembling and his voice a tremulous whisper. Patrick folds his arms around David’s shoulders again, holding him tightly, murmuring words of love and acceptance in his ear. All the words that the David in those pictures had been so desperate to hear. That Patrick needs to say to the David in his arms. 

“Um, so what are you gonna do with it?” David asks wetly against the skin of Patrick’s throat.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Patrick asks, letting his fingers sift soothingly through David’s hair.

David sniffles, presses his lips against the hinge of Patrick’s jaw. “I… I don’t care,” he says eventually. And Patrick can tell he means it. “You can keep it, if you want. Or you can… you can burn it. Or shred it. Just… if you keep it, no one but you, okay?”

“Of course,” Patrick assures. “David, of course. Only me.”

Patrick feels David nod, and he smiles when he feels David’s hands slowly making their way back down to slip into his back jeans pockets.

David’s mouth is moving, the rough stubble of his face scraping the sensitive skin on Patrick’s throat. It’s a sensation Patrick will never tire of. David’s scruff against his neck elicits a Pavlovian response of desire deep in Patrick’s belly. He cradles the back of David’s head and angles his neck for more of that delicious abrasion.

“Um, can I ask you a question?” Patrick’s voice comes out in a needy whine and David’s hands move to get a firm grip on his ass, pulling him closer. Patrick grinds down on David’s lap. “Those, um… the lace… thing. Do you… fuck, David,” he moans as David bites at his earlobe. David chuckles wickedly in response and does it again. “Jesus.”

He lets David pull him closer, and he slowly grinds his hips down against David, earning a whimper and a tightening of David’s fingers on his ass.

“I don’t have that particular lace _thing_ anymore,” David whispers in his ear, and Patrick feels a surge of disappointment rise up inside himself. David nips at his earlobe again. “But I do have some other pieces that might interest you.” 

The disappointment fades and Patrick feels himself grow harder, something he didn’t think would be possible. “Yeah?”

“Mmm,” David hums in confirmation. “I was saving them for our wedding night.” Patrick groans deep in the back of his throat. “But maybe I could be persuaded to show you _one_ of them. If you ask very, _very_ nicely—“

“Please! God, David, please!” Patrick practically sobs, earning a snort of laughter from his fiancé.

“Mkay. Up, up!” David bounces his legs, urging Patrick up and off his lap. Patrick gracelessly gets to his feet, his erection hard and unyielding against the fly of his jeans. He watches as David gets to his feet, adjusting himself and shooting Patrick a wink before he heads to the dresser and rifles through his underwear drawer. And somehow Patrick finds it insanely hot that these little lace… _things_ have been so close at hand all this time. 

“Make yourself comfortable, honey,” David says, tucking something into the palm of his hand. “I just need a few minutes to get pretty for you.” He pauses to press a kiss to Patrick’s cheek, swatting at his backside before flouncing to the bathroom, blowing a kiss in Patrick’s direction before the door closes behind him.

Patrick stands staring at the door for a moment before he remembers he’s supposed to be doing something. Getting comfortable. Right. He quickly shucks his jeans, tossing them into the hamper, followed by his shirt and undershirt. He sits on the side of the bed and looks around the room. The lights are on and suddenly it’s not enough. If David is sharing this with him, he should at least try to set a more romantic mood. He jumps up and grabs the matches from the junk drawer in the kitchen, setting light to the candles on the mantelpiece, on the dresser, on the hearth. Then he turns off the overhead lights. The apartment is flooded with a flickering golden light. Perfect. He grabs the lube from the bedside table and makes sure it’s within arm’s reach. 

He settles himself back on the bed, shifting as he tries to find a position that is sexy, but not trying too hard. He’s lying on his side, one knee crooked in front of him and the mental image of George Costanza posing in his underwear flashes in Patrick’s mind’s eye and he sits back up, deciding instead to just lay back against the pillows. 

The bathroom door opens and Patrick holds his breath. David emerges wearing… his clothes. 

“Hi, baby,” David says, leaning against the doorway, looking effortlessly sexy, if highly overdressed. 

“Hi,” Patrick smiles back. “Uh… so you’re wearing a lot of clothes.”

David smirks at him and does a flirty little shimmy. “What good is a present if you don’t get to unwrap it?” he asks, sauntering slowly toward the bed. “I like the mood lighting.”

Patrick smiles. “I do what I can,” he says with a shrug.

David kneels on the foot of the bed and begins to crawl toward Patrick. David’s dark eyes are glittering in the candlelight, focused solely on Patrick. He straddles Patrick’s lap, hands smoothing up from Patricks chest, over his shoulders, around his neck. 

“Thank you, Patrick,” David says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Patrick’s lips. 

“For what?”

David pulls back, his lips twisted into a little bud into the corner of his mouth. “For seeing me. And still loving me, even when it’s hard for me to love myself.”

The corners of Patrick’s eyes prickle with tears and he cups David’s face in his palms. “Ditto.”

He can see that David got the reference - _Ghost_ is one of their favourite movies to watch together - when his face goes soft and his eyes sparkle.

“Now,” Patrick says after clearing the emotions from his throat, “I believe I have a present to unwrap.”

David lifts his arms over his head and Patrick takes his cue, gently pulling David’s sweater up and off. He lays it on the nightstand beside the bed and lets his hands roam unimpeded over the soft hair on David’s chest. 

“I love this,” he says, sitting up and nuzzling his face against David’s chest. “I remember the first time I saw you topless. I just about died from lust, right then and there.”

“I was so nervous,” David whispers in response, fingers gently raking through Patrick’s hair. “I was very self-conscious about my body hair, but you… the look on your face made it all okay.”

“It was always okay, David,” Patrick says, brushing his lips over David’s nipple and feeling David’s fingers tighten in his hair in response. “You were always okay. You just needed to find someone who appreciates all this beauty.”

He takes David’s nipple in his mouth and rolls it between his lips, grazing the delicate skin with his teeth. David whines, and Patrick can feel David’s breath stutter as he continues to lave and suck on the delicate pink bud in his mouth.

“Patrick…” David’s voice is high and breathy and desperate. “Please…”

Patrick wraps his arms around David’s middle, heaving himself up to his knees and pushing David’s shoulders into the mattress. David gazes up at him adoringly, wrapping his long legs around Patrick’s hips. 

Sitting up on his knees between David’s thighs, Patrick reaches for the drawstring waist of David’s pants. He slowly pulls apart the knot, then hooks his fingers under the waistband. He can feel the lace hiding beneath on the backs of his fingers and it kicks his heartbeat up a notch, causes his dick to twitch, and his tongue to dart out of his mouth in anticipation. 

He tugs on the waistband and David obligingly lifts his hips so Patrick can draw the joggers slowly down his legs. He tries to focus on getting the pants off, but he can see the lace now - midnight blue, delicate, floral and vine design - and it's everything he had hoped it would be. Except…

“It’s blue,” he says, tossing David’s pants to the floor carelessly. He needs to be touching David _now_. The fabric feels so soft and David’s cock feels so hard beneath it. 

“You like blue,” David says softly. “I thought you’d prefer this over black.”

Patrick nods his head, then shakes it. “I’d love you in any colour, baby,” he murmurs, his fingertips stroking David’s length, his eyes focused on the small damp patch of lace that’s growing steadily larger near the tip of David’s cock. “But fuck… this is so pretty.” He looks up at David’s face. “You are so fucking pretty, baby.”

David blushes beautifully, his eyes soft and shining. “You too, honey,” he says, tenderly stroking Patrick’s face with the backs of his fingers. 

Patrick lowers his face, skimming his lips along David’s cock. The lace feels foreign against his skin, and David’s scent is so familiar. It’s a heady combination, and Patrick parts his lips and lets his tongue dart out, flicking little kitten licks until he reaches David’s leaking head and then he sucks gently, mindful of the delicate lace, but desperate to taste David on his tongue.

“Patrick… honey, more…” David sighs, lifting his hips in an attempt to get more pressure, more friction from Patrick. 

Patrick trails a string of kisses down David’s cock and then he presses his open mouth to David’s balls, letting his tongue trace the pattern of vines and petals. He can feel David’s balls pulse and twitch at his touch and he gently sucks them into his mouth. David’s hands are in his hair now, massaging his scalp, gently and wordlessly asking Patrick for more.

Patrick lets his hands slip beneath David’s thighs, sliding them up to his ass. “Mmm… baby, turn over,” he murmurs against David’s lace-sheathed balls. “Need to see your ass in these. I want to fuck you in your pretty, pretty panties.”

“Y-yeah?” David’s voice is high and breathy and his fingers are wound tight in Patrick’s hair. 

“Mm hmm,” Patrick hums, buzzing his lips from David’s balls back to the tip of his cock, and back down again. He gently taps David’s hip with his hand. “C’mon,baby. Over.”

He sits up and stares down at David. His dark eyes are practically black in the low light and his beautiful mouth is parted slightly, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. Patrick can’t believe that he gets _this_ forever. This man who continuously surprises and challenges him, who trusts him enough to let himself be so, so vulnerable. Who loves Patrick enough to share the most secret parts of himself. 

“Unless,” Patrick begins, as David has made no effort to roll over, “If you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I want very, _very_ much,” David assures him. “I was just enjoying the view. You are _so_ beautiful, Patrick.”

Patrick feels himself blush. David had been the first person to ever tell Patrick he was beautiful. It had taken some getting used to, some serious introspection and many conversations with David on ingrained gender expectations before Patrick had truly been able to accept David at his word when he said Patrick was beautiful. It still does something to Patrick to hear those words, to try and see himself through David’s eyes. He thinks he gets it. He just doesn’t think that anyone or anything compares to the man with the dark hair and eyes who is currently staring up at him from their bed; the man who has put on a pair of lacy lingerie and has changed forever how Patrick defines the word ‘beautiful’.

Patrick smoothes his hands down David’s thighs. “Turn over. I want to see that ass, David.”

David unwinds his legs from around Patrick’s hips and maneuvers onto his stomach, forehead resting on his folded arms. He turns his head and looks up at Patrick, wiggling his tight little butt and blushing when Patrick lets out a growl and straddles his legs, burying his face between David’s lace-covered cheeks. 

He’s done this a thousand times - worshipped David’s taut, perfect ass with his tongue and lips. But this time Patrick is being so, so careful of the lace. He’d never forgive himself if he tore it, it’s just so lovely. Dainty, even. He gently nips and bites where the thin cuff runs along the juncture of David’s thigh and right cheek, delving his tongue carefully beneath the elastic before he bites down on the back of David’s thigh. David jerks and moans, and begs Patrick to do it again on the other side. And Patrick is all too happy to oblige.

By the time Patrick is done, David is writhing on the bed beneath him, rutting against the mattress. And Patrick can’t have that. Can’t have David fucking himself and getting off before Patrick has had his way with him. He grabs Davis’s hips and pulls him up so he’s on his knees, his face still buried in his arms. David lets out a long, low whine. 

“Paaaatrick…”

“I know, honey,” Patrick soothes, pressing kisses to David’s lower back as he tucks his fingers into the lace waistband and pulls the fabric down just enough so it rests just below David’s ass. So Patrick can still feel the lace against his chin when he eats David out. So they’ll both be able to feel it against their balls when Patrick fucks him. He can hear David’s breath hitch when Patrick tells him what he’s going to do, and how good it’s going to feel.

“Okay,” David sighs, and Patrick places his hands on David’s cheeks, parting them to see his little pink hole is already fluttering with want. Patrick runs a dry finger down the cleft of David’s ass, teasing his hole with light, feathery touches, watching in wonder as it quivers at his touch. 

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. He leans forward and places the flat of his tongue against that little quivering hole and moans when David presses back against him. Before David, this was never something he’d seen himself enjoying. But he doesn’t just enjoy it. He fucking loves his tongue in David’s hole. Fucking loves licking him and kissing him and eating him out and feeling that tight little hole open for him, like he has some kind of secret password. And then he loves fucking David when he’s pink and dripping and open.

Patrick squeezes David’s cheeks and licks and sucks at David’s hole. The lace against his chin feels so good and Patrick noses his way down David’s perineum to suck the back of David’s balls through the fabric. David gasps and his hips roll and Patrick moans and does it again, then again while he reaches blindly for the lube. He trails his lips back up to David’s hole and spears his tongue in hard and deep while he flicks open the lube and coats his fingers. While his tongue is still probing, he slides his index finger in beside and David’s breaths become little staccato gasps in time with Patrick’s quick movements. 

“Pa-Patrick…more… more!” David demands and Patrick withdraws his tongue to plunge three fingers in, slow and deep and David’s hips press back taking him deeper and he lets out a high pitched whine. 

“That feel good, baby?” Patrick asks, his own breath heaving as he watches his fingers fuck into his fiancé. 

“Yes. More!”

“You want my cock now? Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes! Yes I want it!”

“You need it, honey? You need me? Need my cock?”

“I need it,” David sputters as he fucks himself on Patrick’s fingers. “Fuck me, please. Patrick, please.”

Patrick is powerless against David begging, asking so nicely. He removes his fingers and they both whine at the loss of contact. Patrick kisses David’s hole as he gets more lube for his cock. David’s hole is wide open now, and so, so soft. Patrick shoves his own briefs down his thighs and takes his cock in hand, lining himself up, pressing into David’s slick, tight heat in one smooth, slow motion. When he feels the lace against his balls, David’s ass against his hips, he lets out a long slow breath. 

“Fuck, David, you feel so good, baby. So good for me.”

“Fits so good,” David murmurs into his arms, still cradling his face. “So, so deep.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, taking hold of David’s hips and grinding his cock deep inside before pulling out slowly, letting the tip of his cock drag against David’s prostate. He can see the muscles of David’s back rippling with a delicious tension, and Patrick sinks back into him quickly, again and again; slowly out, quickly in. Over and over and over again. 

David is writhing beneath him now. Patrick can feel his thighs trembling, and David is letting out a steady stream of curses and sighs and demands as Patrick picks up his pace. He can feel a tightening in his belly and he knows he’s close. The lace is stimulating his balls as he takes David, hard and fast now, and it’s so, so much. 

“David, I’m gonna come. I’m… gonna come…” Patrick breathes and he can see David nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Touch yourself, David. Touch your cock in your pretty panties for me. I want you to come in your panties while I fuck you, baby.”

David lets out a breathy “yeah” before he untucks one arm from under his head and Patrick watches as it disappears beneath him. He pictures David’s soft, elegant fingers dipping beneath the lace to stroke his cock, and it’s almost enough to send Patrick over the edge. 

“You touching yourself?”

“Mmm… mmhmm…” David breathes. “Yeah. So good.”

“You gonna come in your panties, baby?”

“Yeah… s-so close…”

“Make a mess in those panties, David,” Patrick demands, the fire in his belly raging now, causing his balls to tighten. He’s going to come. “Oh… oh fuuuuck… uhhhhhnnn…” Patrick groans as stars burst behind his eyes and his body is engulfed in a tidal wave of the most intense pleasure. It feels so good it almost hurts and Patrick floats for a moment, enjoying the way his body goes loose and every ounce of tension leeches out of him. 

David’s voice chanting his name brings him back to reality. He opens his eyes to see David still on hands and knees in front of him, one hand working furiously underneath him.

“Roll over, baby,” Patrick says, gently pulling his softening cock from David’s heat. “Come on. Let me help.”

David sobs and rolls obediently into his back, his cock so red and slick and swollen in his fist. David’s face is scrunched up in a grimace that’s a mixture of the pain and pleasure that exists in that fleeting moment just before climax and Patrick places his hand over David’s, stilling his movement and gently prying his fingers from his cock. He replaces them with his own, squeezing and pulling and twisting just the way he knows David likes, and he watches, transfixed as David’s mouth opens and he squinches his eyes shut and lets out the most delicious, wanton moan as his back arches and he comes, ribbons of hot white spilling all over Patrick’s fist, all over those pristine little panties. Patrick gentles his grip, continuing to stroke David through his orgasm, pulling more from him. More come, more cries of ecstasy. 

“That’s it, baby,” Patrick coos, placing a calming hand on David’s thigh and watching David’s chest heave as he comes down from his high. “So good. You did so good, David. Such a beautiful mess you made, all for me.” He leans down and gently licks at the head of David’s cock. David keens at the sensation on his over-sensitive skin and Patrick loosens his fist and brings his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean of all David had to offer him. David watches him with wide, dark eyes, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. 

When his hand has been licked clean, Patrick leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to David’s lips before sitting back and carefully peeling the lace down David’s legs. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, getting to his feet. He heads to the bathroom, cleaning himself quickly with a wet cloth before getting the cloth wet again with the hottest water he can stand. Then he fills the sink with lukewarm water and tips in a small cap-full of the delicate detergent David uses for his hand-wash only clothes, not wanting the mess to stain or ruin the lacy garment. He swishes it gently in the water before leaving it to soak, taking the cloth - which is now a more tolerable temperature - back to the bed to offer the same tender care to his fiancé. 

When he’s done, Patrick chucks the cloth in the direction of the hamper and manhandles a very limp and pliable David up the bed and under the blankets. Patrick curls up behind him and wraps him up tightly in his arms, nuzzling his face into the space just below David’s ear and pressing delicate, fluttering kisses to the soft, tender skin. 

“That was amazing, David. You’re amazing. I love you so much,” Patrick whispers. David responds by nestling back against Patrick and murmuring something unintelligible into his pillow before his breathing evens out and Patrick knows he’s asleep. 

He holds David for a while longer, taking comfort in the rise and fall of his flank as he breathes. He presses a kiss to the nape of David’s neck before he slowly and carefully disentangles himself from David’s body. As much as he’d like to drift off himself, he can’t in good conscience sleep while the candles are burning. He grabs David’s discarded sweatpants from the floor and pulls them on, padding to the kitchen to flick on the soft light over the stove. Then he wanders through the open space of his apartment, blowing out the candles. He’s about to head back to bed when he pauses beside the kitchen table, his eyes falling on the leather portfolio. 

Sitting down at the table, Patrick flips through the images again. He’s still not sure what he’s going to do with it. He’s not sure he can bring himself to destroy something so personal and vulnerable. Closing the portfolio, he goes to his ‘Step In’ closet and pulls a box off the top shelf. It’s filled with mementos of his old life - things that no longer reflect who he is - things that he can’t quite bear to get rid of. His high school yearbook, where he and Rachel had been voted ‘Cutest Couple’, photos of them on prom night, taken in his parents’ backyard, engagement photos taken in Rachel’s parents’ garden.

The Patrick in these photos used to haunt him. And as painful as they can be to look at - seeing Rachel’s smiling face next to his slightly uncertain expression never ceases to make him writhe with guilt - he knows that those years of uncertainty lead him here. To David. To this life they’ve built and will continue to build together. They helped to turn him into the man he is today.

He slides the portfolio into the box and closes the lid. He sets the box back on the shelf. They can decide later whether to keep them or not. But for now, Patrick closes the closet door on all of their old insecurities, all the old guilt. And he crawls back into bed with the man he’s going to marry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter puts me over 100,000 words published in this fandom! Thank you all for coming back to my stories. This is a milestone I never thought I’d reach.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I’d love to hear from you. Please comment if you’d like, or come say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> D McM


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